Kill Me Quickly!
by Not2BForgotten
Summary: Oneshot Whumper! First I went after Charlie, and now I'm after DonCharlie has a bit of fun too Total Don whump! My second attempt at bad day therapy! R


**A/N: Okay, so I decided that if I was that mean to Charlie, I should at least be slightly fair and make our dear Donnie miserable too. So here it is, totally revamp from it's previous appearance, much better than before in my opinion! Let me know! R&R!**

Just Kill Me Quickly

It was all his fault. Life was good until he'd had that one really long, horrible day. An infamous day that set a chain of eventful misery for me. I was an innocent bystander just doing my job and working to be a good brother. Now all I want to do is wring his scrawny little neck, but I know I won't. I'm just blaming him for stuff he had no control over, although he was responsible for one thing. But I feel so much better when I blame him.

It all started about three weeks after the longest day of Charlie's life. He'd ended the day big by sending projectile vomit at me. That was disgusting. After nearly chucking him in bed I'd turned on the shower to drown out the sound of me puking from grossness. It was amazing how fast those clothes had been removed. I'll never set that record again(I hope). He got his cast off yesterday from his wrist, and the foot with the gash had healed a while ago, though the foot with two broken toes and a broken ankle was proving slow to heal. He was at least now capable of hobbling pathetically about the house. I made sure to be more of a nuisance and annoyance to him then he really deserved, all in the name of being a big brother. Little did I know I would later regret that.

The first event happened around two in the morning as I suddenly launched myself to the bathroom, much in the same fashion as Charlie had done three weeks ago, except unlike him, I never left until six a.m. I never believed a person could puke so much and still be alive. Of course, that had been combined with about two hours of dry heaving. By the end I was trembling so bad I could barely stand, but I was determined. I was going to crawl back into bed and DIE! But of course, just like Charlie, I didn't get the chance. On the night stand my phone went crazy. My head exploded right then and there. It took me to the fourth ring to find my phone since I was seeing three of them. I was barely able to stop from groaning as Merrick called me into work early. So much for crawling into bed and dying. I finished the conversation as quickly as I could considering I was speaking to my boss. If I was being called in this early by Merrick it meant that this wasn't going to be an easy case. I finally let the groan loose when a sharp pain speared through my stomach. I was seeing dark spots before my eyes as my skull pressed into my eyes. I was sure I was going to die and only hoped it would be soon.

I was having trouble discerning the pounding in my head from the rumbles of thunder outside my window. It seemed to take forever for me to gather the fresh clothes for the day, but I apparently managed. I was greatly looking forward to the hot shower, since I felt like a block of ice and couldn't stop shivering. All I could think was that this was all Charlie's fault. He had given me his flu. I swore I would have my revenge if I lived through the day. I was just reaching to turn on the hot water when the power went out. I could now see bright spots before my eyes, that were so bright they worsened the headache which produced more spots. Even when I closed my eyes those infernal spots continued their demonic dance. I grumbled yet again and went in search of a flashlight or candle, anything to add a little light for my shower. I ended up in the kitchen, searching through a drawer far too close to the floor.

My entire body ached. Forgetting that I had also opened the top drawer, though now I don't remember why, I bolted up, the desired item never found. The first thing that happened was the back of my head hitting the bottom of the top drawer, corner and all. I jerked away from the drawer only to hit the bottom drawer, again corner and all. I repeated this process three times before I could stop the vicious cycle. I'm not sure how it had ended, all I knew was that somehow I'd extricated myself from the drawers and landed on my rump in the middle of the kitchen. Now not only were white spots dancing before my eyes, but dozens of far too brightly colored shapes were spinning about my head. I kicked the bottom drawer shut angrily and, stumbling to my feet I grabbed the top drawer in a rage and slammed it shut. Consistent with the day, not even 7 o'clock yet, I realized too late that my fingers had curled over the drawer face. Pain erupted through all four fingers and my thumb. I was never so thankful for having done something one handed till now. I had gingerly removed them and found that them in a state of shock, unable to move them. It was at this point that I noticed the flashlight on the counter beside the toaster.

I took my shower in a silent rage, finding it difficult to work the shampoo into my hair with one hand, let alone the conditioner, but some how I managed. When I got out of the dreadfully cold shower, I didn't find out until later that the water heater had broken in the middle of the night, I was sure I was hypothermic. I got dressed stiffly, and hoped that my hair looked decent after running a brush through it, since even with the dying flashlight, it was too dark in my apartment to see my reflection. All I wanted right now was a cup of coffee, but of course, the one thing that I thought he could actually keep down, couldn't be had due to the lack of power. I shivered violently as I stepped outside to a blast of wind whipping against him icily. It looked to be threatening rain. I had hoped that the car ride to work would be uneventful. Again I was wrong. I had driven, completely abandoning any thought of driving sensibly, not bothering with the mirrors. I suddenly found myself swerving and hitting the brakes, screeching to a stop as I ran over something loudly. When I got out I discovered two things. The first was that I had run over a tree branch in the road, that thanks to my oblivious driving today, I'd never seen. The second was that there was a family of very angry skunks less then two feet away from me. I got the worst of all five. I stumbled backwards gasping for real air and only ended up getting lungful after lungful of that vile spray. I puked for ten minutes next to my car. As I stumbled back to the door of my car, I discovered the front tire was viciously slashed by the tree branch which I barely remembered to remove.

Grumbling I went and got the spare tire, which at that very moment, the sky burst open with the hardest torrential down pour I'd seen in my life. It took be fifteen minutes of misery and violent shivering to change the tire. I was finally putting my stuff away, soaked to the bone when I noticed the back tire was also flat. I just threw my stuff in the back, slamming the door shut. I rolled down every window, barely able to breathe with the stench that hung around me now. I sped like the devil to work after glancing at my watch. I was desperate to get out of my car. By the time I got there, the back tire had sunk down to the rim. I just kicked it and stormed inside. People backed away from me quickly, not waiting till they were out of sight to pluck their noses, staring at me wide-eyed. I just glared at them all dangerously and stormed to my desk to find the files of my new case and the fact that Merrick had been called out of office for something. I hadn't flipped through it thoroughly but I could already tell I would need Charlie on this one. My team hadn't arrived yet. I ended up driving to Charlie's after finding his phone most likely turned off. By the time I got there it was finally 7:30 and I was already having the worst day of my life. I let myself inside and immediately found Charlie eating breakfast. I nearly puked then and there.

"Oh _hi_ Don. Did you need something? " Charlie was grinning at me like a crazed maniac so that I just wanted to punch him. What was up with him?

"Uhh…yeah, I need help with a case." I explained Charlie everything I needed.

"Yeah, I just recently developed an algorithm for that sort of thing, but you're gonna have to get it from my room, Mr. Mother Hen won't let me take the stairs yet." Grumbling I headed up stairs with exact instructions for what to look for. I practically thrashed his room and never found it. I even ventured into his backpack, nothing.

"It's not there." I growled at him. He bit his lip for a moment trying to remember the last place it'd been. His face popped suddenly.

"I remember where it is but you won't like it."

"Where!" I was sick of waiting.

"The bottom of the hill I fell with my bike." my face dropped.

"How long would it take you to rewrite?" I really didn't want to go down there.

"A day, maybe two." Blast, I couldn't wait that long.

"Fine, let's go, I can't wait that long." Charlie was grinning manically until he was supposed to get in the car.

"Do I have to get in _with_ you?" I glared at him.

"What now?"

"You really stink bro." I shoved him forcefully into the car. And drove to the hill he'd rolled down. The second the car stopped Charlie jumped out gasping for air, and I just sulked, stumbling down the hill. Hardly even starting out my foot slipped on the mud and I went tumbling head over heels down the hill. By the time I came to a stop I was completely buried in some dumb plant that choked the entire bottom of the hill and was all scratched up. I climbed to my knees and crawled around searching for that blasted notebook, the sharp leaves slapping my face until I finally found it ten feet away from where I'd landed. I lifted the book out of the brush and suddenly felt like screaming. It was destroyed. Neither of us had thought about the fact that it had rained and the paper notebook would be destroyed. I stumbled up the hill and threw it at Charlie, hardly satisfied when it landed in his face with a wet smack, forming to his head.

"Here! Get back in the car!" I dropped him off at home, near a rage, not realizing that by doing so, I was saving his life, and depriving myself a greatly needed satisfaction. If I'd known that I would never have let him leave. I find myself regretting that decision to this day. I had barely dropped him off when I found myself on the side of the road dry heaving again, flashing from fire to ice, head exploding, the world spinning, and my entire body hurting and itching. At some point I was sure I was going to pass out. Eventually I was able to climb shakily back into the car and just sat for a moment. I could feel the bruises horribly swollen on my forehead and the back of my head, not to mention the bruise across my fingers, with one finger misshapen and swollen. I didn't really think about it being broken. I honestly wasn't capable of thought at that point. I made it back to my apartment a little unsure if I would even make it up the stairs. I was so congested that I was huffing and puffing by the time I reached the top.

I was sure this day couldn't get any worse than it already had, but yet again I was wrong. I wasn't even to the door of my apartment when I could see the water flowing swiftly out from under the door. I felt like beating my head against the door. Grudgingly I opened the door. Water rushed almost up to my knees and with the door it receded some, but not much. The entire apartment was in this state. I felt like killing someone. The power was still out so I had to brail my way to my room and hope there was still a pair of slacks even slightly dry. Somewhere along the way I tripped on what I'll never know, but I ended up going for a dip, not that it made much difference since I'd already been soaked. I never did find anything dry, but I wasn't surprised. By the time I got out of my apartment again, I really didn't care, I had given up on the day.

Standing outside my apartment I found it to be almost eight, my team should be at the office soon. I decided to call Charlie and see if he had anything to report. Everything was fine until I turned my phone on, forgetting that I'd just been submerged in water. The shock was instantaneous. For the first thirty seconds I lost all control of my hand and continued to clench it but somehow was able to break the hold. The phone went clattering down the stairs that I stood at the top of, hitting each and every step, bouncing off the rail to turn and go down the last flight of stairs. I could barely see it at my position, but I was able to see it, all three pieces of it at least.

"Of course" I grumbled. I was starting down the stairs when at the second step down, I found piece number four, skittering out from under my foot. I soon found myself on the same path as my phone, my head bounced off the rail and sent me careening down the second flight of stairs that doubled back on the first set. By the time I came to a stop I was literally on top of my phone. My entire body pulsed. I could feel the goose egg starting on the back of my head, and the trickle of blood down the side of my face, my wrist was murder, as well as my shin. With a few expletives I managed to stumble to my car, puking over the tire right before getting inside. Once my stomach was done with the insufferable dry heaves I got into my car and started to drive suddenly itching like crazy over my entire body again, but with the way this day was going, I should have expected that. I attempted some soup I found abandon in the break room, doubting that it would actually stay down.

When I finally made it there, unhappy that I was still alive, I was never so happy to sink into the chair behind my desk, in my entire life. I made sure to keep the trash can close, not knowing how long the food would last that I'd eaten. Before even realizing, I'd slumped back in my chair, and fell asleep.

--oo0oo--

Megan, Colby, and David arrived at the office at the usual time, wondering if Don knew that the back tire of his car was deflated to resting on the rim, and looked as if it had been driven anyways. They had pushed through the throng of reporters easily. The first thing wrong that they noticed was that the entire office smelled horrible. Colby was the first to make a comment.

"Charlie is here isn't he?" he inquired remembering the stink bomb event.

"Can't be Charlie, Don declared that he was stench free by the second week." David mentions, a small quirk of a smile. The next thing that they noticed was the entire office throwing glances that were a mixture of humor and fear towards Don's cubicle. Now they were really curious. As they approached the smell became almost unbearable. Don couldn't possibly be the cause of such a stench, could he? They now stood at the entrance to the cubicle, gaping aghast at Don. His skin was splotchy and lobster red in every place that there was visible skin, he had a nasty gash over his right eye which was slowly swelling, his wrist was a massive, swollen, black and blue bruise, looking moderately misshapen, most likely broken by their estimate, the other hand, along with the splotchy red had a small burn in the palm of his hand and thumb, a bar like bruise across the fingers, with one finger looking broken. He was sagged as far down as the chair would let him, legs sprawled wider then the desk, arms draped over the arms of the chair, a very broken looking wrist attached. He was dripping went and shivering, a puddle of water forming beneath him.

"Is he alive?" Colby asked quietly.

"Of course he is, he's breathing." Megan retorted.

"If you call that breathing." Colby shrugged. Don was barely able to get a decent breath he was so congested.

"What'd you think happened to him?" David asked.

"Well Charlie has to be involved with the hair, but what about the rest?" Colby ventured.

"I have no idea, none of this was existent yesterday." David commented. Megan and Colby nodded in agreement. Whatever they were going to say next, they never had a chance as Don suddenly shot forward, head slamming on the desk, chair shooting out from under him, sending him crashing to his knees, followed by the sounds of violent retching. They grimaced in sympathy for him. When he was done he just sank to the floor, rolling on to his back for a moment but hissed, arching his back, and rolled back up to his knees again.

"Don are you okay?" _what a stupid question!!_ He thought. He never got the chance to answer as he was again puking into the trash can. Between heaves he was barely able to gasp for another can. Colby came running to aid with an empty can, barely making it in time. He dry heaved for ten minute before his body gave up. He leaned back against his chair, tipping his head back onto it. The chair zipped away mercilessly, giving him no time to catch himself and he thunked to the ground, head bouncing slightly. He just whimpered in defeat and stayed down. They all stared flabbergasted.

"Stop staring and either get to work or shoot me and put me out of my misery."

"What happened?" Colby quizzed.

"What didn't happen. The case information is on my desk, get to work. Oh and I don't care who, but whichever one of you would be overjoyed to lend me a spare tire and put it on for me, thanks." Don quipped.

"Ummm…okay." they filed away in a state of shock. Don lay on the floor for fifteen minutes before he mustered the energy to get up and get to work. No matter how many pills he took his migraine wouldn't even ease, the sight of food sent him dry heaving, as well as the smell of himself. The constant staring of people or seeing them plug their noses around him was really getting annoying. Even his team couldn't help but stare at him. He could feel what patience he had, which amazed him that he had any, quickly dwindling. He was overjoyed when he and Megan ended up driving out to interview someone. Don's day had improved up till then, then it plummeted again. The area had been secluded, very secluded, not even in L.A but about an hour or so out. To get there they'd had to go up this mountainous winding road that barely allowed enough space for a car going the opposite direction to pass. They came in two cars because Megan wouldn't let Don into her car he stank so bad. She still didn't know how he'd come to smell that bad though.

They arrived at a cabin home with plenty of space. Megan parked as close to the cabin as she could but Don desperate to get in to open fresh air, parked at the nearest spot. Megan had tried to warn him, suggest he park somewhere else, a little farther away from the ledge perhaps. But as she expected he didn't.

"I'll park where I please!" he growled at her. His parking spot was fine. Until they showed up. He'd just turned to walk towards the cabin when he heard someone shouting, but he couldn't make out the words. He turned and saw three things. A huge cat running straight at him, followed by a massive Saint Bernard with a leash, and at the other end of the leash was a bicyclist. Don never had a chance. The cat hit first, sharp claws digging into his flesh as it scrambled up his body in a panic jumping off his shoulder. The shock sent him staggering backwards. The dog hit next like a semi-truck. He was bowled to the ground and heavy paws slamming into his body. He barely sat up swaying dangerously when the bike hit, the handle bars hitting him squarely against both eyes. The tire ran right over his nose, breaking it instantly. The instant the biker was over him he dizzily rolled onto his hands and knees, one hand desperately clutching his nose.

What he saw next he would never forget, and saw it in slow motion. The cat ran straight towards his SUV then suddenly veered away, the dog veered in synchrony, the bikers, spun and slammed sideways into his car. The car in turn rolled right off the cliff that moments ago, Megan had told him not to park by. He stumbled towards the cliff and watched his car, his precious car log rolling down the cliff. By the time it stopped it was crushed, every window shattered, unrecognizable as a car, and just to top it off it chose to explode at that moment into a fire ball. He just blinked at it stunned. Megan a few feet away was staring, mouth agape. Don felt nothing more so eagerly than to push the guy, his dog, and that stupid cat off the cliff with the car, but lucky for them, none had been able to stop and were long gone by now. Suddenly someone was handing him a wash cloth for his nose.

"Come one Don, into my car. We'll talk to the person at the office, they've already agreed to go. Given what happened so far today I really don't think you should be near any cliffs." Don stared at his car a moment longer, another torrential down pour beginning and making short work of the fire below.

"S-sure." he followed in a state of shock, limping the entire way. If his shin had hurt before, it was almost unbearable now. He went to get in the front seat but Megan stopped him.

"Uh uh, you're in the back with every window open." he glared at her but complied wanting nothing more than to get off his leg, lay down in the back seat and begged for death. Sometime during the ride his nose stopped bleeding but not hurting, and he took a quick look at his leg. It was a massive black, blue, green, and purple bruise, swollen to twice it's normal size. He knew he should go to the hospital, but given his luck today, he really didn't think it would be safe, remembering Charlie's toes when he last visited, so he kept quiet about it. He actually managed to get some semblance of sleep during the ride, but not much, and it certainly wasn't very restful with his congestion. It was rudely awoken as he launched himself for the window, hanging his head out, puking like there was no tomorrow.

"Got a water bottle?" he croaked once finished. The passenger handed him a water bottle which he accepted silently.

"You know Don, you really should just go home today. You haven't even told us what happened before we got there, which was at 8:30. How much could happen between what seven, which is probably when you got in, and then? You look horrible."

"Thanks for all the lovely compliments, they really make me feel better." just seeing her roll her eyes made him dizzy. The rest of the ride was a hazy memory for him. His skin was hot to the touch he knew but he had never felt so cold in his life. He ended up riding the rest of the way, laying curled in the back seat, slowly, very slowly drinking his water. He couldn't remember ever being so miserable in his life. His nose started bleeding just for show as he walked up to Colby and David's desk for updates. They were staring at him again, with a bloody nose and deep scratches all up his arms, neck and face, the unseen ones on his legs and chest.

"What happened?" they asked in unison.

"To him or his car?" Megan asked provokingly coming up from behind Don.

"The car? What happened to his car?" Colby stammered confused. Don was glaring at her.

"Don learned a lesson on parking." the glare worsened.

"I parked just fine."

"Sure you did, at the edge of a cliff." she harassed.

"Cliff?" David and Colby asked in unison again.

"I parked fine, it was level ground, nothing should have happened."

"You were asking for trouble parking on the edge."

"It was fine."

"Tell that to your car."

"How was I supposed to know a cat, a Saint Bernard, and an idiot would hit it?"

"What happened to the car?" Colby shouted. Don and Megan stopped bickering and looked at him.

"Don parked on the edge of a cliff, despite my warnings. A biker, dog, and cat showed up in a chase, ran over smart guy over here, then hit his car." if looks could kill.

"Do you want to get shot?" he barbed.

"And?" David and Colby pushed.

"It rolled off the cliff in a log roll, and exploded when it stopped at the bottom."

"Ouch" Don left in a storm, clutching his bleeding nose as he went to the break room for towels. They watched him go and growl at someone that was staring at his hair.

"What's the matter! Never seen a bloody nose before!" they gaped at him as he disappeared into the break room.

"Hey guys, is it just me, or do you think he doesn't know about his hair?" Colby asked.

"Maybe he's in denial?" Megan piped in.

"He's not acting like he knows about it, and I think he might try to find a way to hide it if he did know."

"True, not to mention Charlie is still alive, and he hasn't shown any aggression to him." David added.

"I don't think he knows." Colby concluded.

"You think we should tell him?" Megan asked.

"Are you nuts! He's armed and dangerous, not to mention what happened, I mean we find him with one of the worst cases of the flu I've seen in a long time, looking like he got in a fight and lost, with both man and poison ivy. Then the incident with the chair, and now he's been run over by a dog, cat, and a bike, only to watch his car roll down a cliff, and just to top it off it explodes. And that's just what we know happened, we still haven't found out what happened between seven and eight thirty."

"I have a feeling he was up really early this morning, he doesn't look like he slept at all." they paused in their speculation to see Don walk out of the break room, headed in another direction. He was floored when a door burst open, nailing him right between the eyes. The exiting person profusely apologized, shutting the door behind them and making a quick escape. He was just getting to his knees when another idiot burst out of the room. The doorknob slammed into his eye. This time he rolled away from the door before trying to get up. He leaned against the wall waving unsteadily and looked at the clock. 10:30. How could such a day happen so slowly? His only saving grace was that Merrick was supposed to be away the entire day, having been sucked into unavoidable meetings of unknown subjects.

Don had just pushed himself off the wall, finally feeling steady enough to stand on his own. He could believe that he'd be hit by the same door twice in less then two minutes by two different people. He could already feel his eye swelling and blackening, and the goose egg forming on his forehead, a small addition to the rest of his bruises. Just when he found himself yet again thinking this day couldn't get worse, it did, yet again. A cold looking man approached him, speaking coldly, eyeing his hair, not that Don realized that was what he was looking at.

"Donald Eppes?"

"Yes, what do you need?" he was feeling impatient and already didn't like this guy.

"I need you to come with me. To an interrogation room."

"Why?"

"You are being charged with murder, now please come with me." Don gaped. He couldn't have heard right so he followed, stunned expecting to get answers more quickly if he followed. Megan had just been walking up to ask Don a question when she overheard that last comment and saw Don following in a state of confused shock. She immediately went to work to find out the truth. That couldn't have been right. She searched, prodded, and probed for information, and after forty five minutes of getting in fights with other agents until she found the lead agent on that specific case. David and Colby were following her now as she approached the lead agent. Meanwhile Don was in the interrogation room, at wits end being asked questions that made no sense to him and he didn't have the answer to.

"What can I do for you?"

"I was hoping to see what evidence you have incriminating Don Eppes in your case?" the woman looked at her confused.

"Eppes…Eppes…Eppes…hold on for a moment. Hey Paites, give me that file." she pointed at a specific file and flipped through it thoroughly.

"Well?" Megan demanded impatiently.

"OH MY GOODNESS, THAT'S A MISTAKE!" an hour after the mistake had been made, Colby walked into the interrogation room where Don was waiting. He was sacked out, his upper body sprawled across the table. At first he thought of just letting him sleep, but he figured that if he didn't inform Don immediately of the mistake that had been made, he just might be charged with murder after all. He gripped Don's shoulder and shook gently, dismayed at the heat radiating through the shirt. He groaned but didn't wake up. Colby shook him harder. He sprang to life far too quickly for the chair to remain balanced, tipping backwards and spinning to the side to quickly for Colby to catch either. For the second time that day Don found his head bouncing off the floor and decided it would be best if he just stayed there.

"What did I do now?"

"Nothing, it was a mistake." Don just kept his eyes closed and lay there.

"What was a mistake?"

"You being accused of murder."

"How do you mistake that?"

"Simple, whoever typed up the warrant made a typo. They were supposed to write Donald Elpes, instead they wrote Eppes."

"Wonderful." Colby settled himself to sit on the table.

"So what happened today between six in the morning, when you were called in and eight thirty when we found you?"

"Your timeline is off."

"Oh, so when did this marvelous day begin for you?"

"Two a.m. puking like my life depended on it. I had just finished up with that when Merrick called. All hopes of crawling in bed and dying were over."

"Bummer."

"Then I'm finally getting to have a nice hot shower and the power goes out. Somehow while in search of a flashlight my head ends up bouncing between two drawers, still don't remember how I got out of that."

"Ouch."

"Then I got mad and slammed the drawer shut, with my hand in it of course." he barely lifted the injured hand, then let it drop.

"You should probably get that looked at, that finger looks broken."

"I'm just waiting to see if I'm alive at the end of the day. If I am then I'll get all this looked at."

"Somehow I don't think that that was all that happened."

"Nope. Thankfully my shower, although unexpectedly and miserably icy, was uneventful." Don didn't see Colby smirk.

"Good for you." Don looked at him curiously. Colby had said that strangely.

"Well I finally get to driving to work and I run over a tree branch that I never saw. Popped the front and back tire."

"Yeah we saw the back tire."

"Well I got out to see what I'd hit and I get sprayed by not one but five skunks."

"Not wonder you smell worse than death." Don glared at him viciously. "Sorry."

"Well, after changing the tire in a torrential down pour, somehow I end up having to go to Charlie's for some algorithm for the case. And of course, it's the one that he happened to leave at the bottom of the hill he fell down a couple of weeks ago. So I end up going fishing for it. He conveniently forgot to tell me that the big bush I was grubbing through was poison ivy."

"Oh, that reminds me, he called, says he left four messages on your phone, but you haven't answered." Don laughed morbidly.

"Funny, one for each piece."

"Huh?"

"I had to go back to my apartment for clean clothes. The stupid thing was flooded knee deep. I gave up on the clean clothes when I went for a dunk."

"That's just tough."

"Then I decided to call Charlie and see how the math thing was going. My phone shocked me and jumped down two flights of stairs, never missing a single step. I could see the three pieces at the bottom."

"But you said there were four."

"Number four was on the second step down, I slipped on it and fell down the two flights of stairs exactly like my phone."

"Ouch. So that's what happened before we got here."

"Almost."

"Almost? What else did you do?"

"Well another bout of puking" Colby never had a chance to answer.

He immediately helped Don to his feet. His boss swayed dangerously having to grip the table for balance. He helped Don make an escape to the break room, finding and testing a chair before letting him sit down.

"I have to finish something up real quick, but then I'm taking you home, err…Charlie's house." Don just waved a hand at him, sinking against a table. He didn't know how long he'd sat there, the world nothing more then a haze, when he needed a drink. He stumbled to his feet and just as he was reaching for a cup, fate turned against him again. He couldn't believe how many idiots there were in this office, but he'd counted up to three and the fourth ran into him forcefully, launching him forward. The coffee pot which had thankfully been unplugged because it quit working, now fell to the floor with a satisfying shatter. Don followed after it, unable to grab anything to stop himself. He landed on his knees, putting a hand out to stop him from landing on his already broken nose. He held still for a moment stunned, then with a groan he looked at his hand. His palm was bleeding profusely, the largest shard of glass from the pot sunk deep into his hand, and if the wrist hadn't been broken before, it was now. The world around him melted away into a self centered oblivion as he walked towards Colby's desk.

Colby saw Don coming, cradling his hand to his stomach. He could see that it was bleeding profusely. He couldn't figure out whether he should give Don a hug or shoot him mercifully. His eyes were glazed and he was sweating profusely, staggering towards the desk like a drunk, limping heavily.

"Colby I think you should take me home now."

"Sure." Don trudged towards the elevator without looking back to see if Colby followed. But of course, fate was out to get Don. Just as the elevator dinged open, there was a shout, and a suspect from the nearest interrogation room made a break for it. The agent in the room was clambering to their feet, ignoring the bloody nose. In a shroud of fever and misery, Don never had a chance as the suspect blindsided him, both tumbling into the elevator. The suspect jammed the down button hurriedly. Don caught himself against the wall, the glass biting deeper into his hand. Suddenly the other guy realized he was in an elevator with an armed agent. The struggle for the gun began. Don had just reached down for it only to find the holster empty. He shoved himself backwards crashing into the other guy landing against the opposite wall. They kicked and punched, shoved and pushed at each other as the elevator descended. This was his chance to shoot someone and still keep his job, self defense after all.

Don soon found himself with his back to the suspect whom was pinned between him and the wall, his arm wrapped behind his back, holding to the guy's wrist, fighting to push the gun away from his back. He gained several inches in the downward direction when the gun went off. His legs turned to rubber and he sank to the ground. The man stepped over him into the center of the elevator and landed two powerful kicks to his ribs before the doors dinged open again and three agents tackled him. Don just lay here limp as a fish. Colby rushed in the moment the suspect was clear, kneeling beside Don, noticing the blood coming from the lower half of his body, though he saw no entry wound.

"Don?"

"Go away!" that was a little surprising.

"Come on Don you've been shot, you need a hospital. You want to bleed to death?"

"Considering it." he kept his eyes closed, pinched tight.

"Don where were you shot? Your back somewhere?"

"No, let's just say I won't be sitting down for a while."

"Oh. Ambulance worthy?"

"No, just drive me there." Colby helped Don to his feet, glad to see that Don didn't look like he was going to bleed out before he got to the hospital. But his left leg was really starting to worry him now that he could tell, through the slacks, that it was swollen and Don couldn't put his weight on it. During the drive, Don slouched so far down on the seat that his derriere was completely safe from actually touching the seat of the seat, and looked positively miserable. To continue with his day, the hospital staff was overwhelmed so he had to wait for half an hour, seeing that he wasn't gushing blood, though he did feel very dizzy in the last ten minutes. Somewhere along the way someone came walking by guiding an empty gurney, which magically tipped over and the metal railing landed on the top of his left foot. Don howled in agony, falling to the floor. He just curled into the fetal position.

"Please, just kill me quickly." Colby laughed considering doing it out of mercy.

"Can't do that" a few minutes later a nurse attended to his multitude of injuries. He discovered that falling down the stairs had cracked the bone in his leg below the knee and the fight in the elevator had finished breaking it. His finger was expectedly broken, the glass had pierce straight through his hand but missed all the bones, and thanks to yet another idiot, the Navicular bone in his left foot was badly cracked along with a rib or two from the Saint Bernard. The only thing that turned out to be a minor injury was the shot to his erm…derriere. They had to fish out the bullet, but that had only required really long tweezers and plenty of painkillers. At some point he ended up puking again, but that got him some anti-nausea drugs so that made him feel a little better. By the time he was ready to go home(after much arguing with the staff about an overnight stay) he felt like he was going to collapse as he crutched his way to where Colby was sitting. On the way a group of people stared at him then hurried off making no attempt to stifle their laughs.

"Colby, why are people at the hospital laughing, this is where the banged up people are supposed to go?" he flushed when Colby also snickered.

"You should go look in a mirror." Don glared at him.

"Why?"

"Just go look" Don hobbled towards the men's room. While he was in there, Colby made a call to Charlie warning that they were on their way and that he better be well out of sight when they got there and a brief summary of his most recently acquired injuries. He lost all composure when he heard Don's response.

"NOOOOOOOOOO! I'm going to kill him!" Don had been beyond suspicious when Colby didn't have the guts to just say what was wrong. He shuffled his way towards the mirror, too miserable and tired to play this game, but he could tell it would be the only way to find the truth. Whatever he'd been expecting, it was nothing compared to what he saw. His skin was lobster red and splotchy three times worse than what Charlie had gotten when he dived in the bush, he had a stitched up gash over his right eye, which was slightly swollen and a minor shiner, the left eye was black and swollen shut. His nose was thankfully not bleeding anymore, but was taped up ridiculously, along with his burned, sliced hand with broken finger and wrist. 

He was never so happy that a mirror only did the upper half of his body. But what did everything in, the true clincher, murderous deed that had been done was his hair. He felt his blood boil. There were numerous, very large bald spots throughout his head which was bad enough, but the true evil was that his hair, besides the bald spots, was _the brightest_ shade of hot pink he'd ever seen in his life. It literally glowed brighter than the lights overhead. He just about died right there. His hair was hot pink! Never in his life had he felt like crying so badly, suddenly remembering the horde of reporters he'd had to push past that morning to get into the office. If it was the last thing he did, it would be to murder his brother, slowly, very slowly. He came out of the bathroom glowering, which only darkened finding Colby in a hysterical fit of laughter.

"Colby, you're fired!"

"Right away sir." he gasped out between the laughter.

"So are Sinclair and Reeves, you got that!"

"Yes sir!" The car ride was spent with Don plotting the various tortures and deaths of Charlie, and Colby trying, and failing, to regain composure. He couldn't possibly do so though, with this giant hot pink blob hovering in your peripheral, knowing that it was attached to Don's head. There was just no regaining composure. Much to his surprise, Charlie was very visible when they got there. And Alan wasn't far behind, though he hadn't a clue what had happened to Don that day.

"Oh, _hi _Donnie, how was _your_ day." Charlie wore an evil grin. Don struggled to run after his brother.

"I'm gonna kill you!" Charlie laughed maniacally.

"Charles Eppes if that is you I smell then you'd better move out now!" Alan called from the kitchen.

"No Dad it's Donnie. You can forget about him giving you grandchildren. He went and got his derriere shot off. A real shame too, it was his best attribute, besides the hair!" Colby gaped. Don was about to lunge at Charlie when his father came into the room.

"What are you…." he saw Don for the first time that day. He stared for a moment, all attention on his hair. "I disown you." was all he said before leaving the room shaking his head. Charlie laughed maniacally again as Don lunged at him. It was a comical sight watching Charlie hobble away from Don who was chasing after him intent on murder, though he couldn't catch Charlie today. Alan wouldn't let Don touch any of the furniture except for the bed in his room, for weeks, waiting for the awful stench to go away.

The Next Morning

Don hobbled cautiously down the stairs, desperate for a cup of coffee. That was the only substance he was able to keep down and he'd been deprived of it the entire day yesterday and he was determined to have one, whether he had to kill for it or not. After the initial shock of his stench and pink, balding hair, his father had returned, clothes pin clenched on his nose, to coddle Don as he always did as there father. Don had been too miserable to put up a fight.

When he finally made it to the bottom he paused, exhausted and scratched his now bald head. He couldn't bear the indignity of the pink hair for more than a day so he'd shaved it all off, after hours of washing in a hope to get it out. It didn't even fade. Charlie had admitted to putting a large amount of Nair in his shampoo and copious amounts of hair die in the conditioner, while he'd been out most of the day before, though he hadn't expected Don to make it so far through the day before discovering the vicious deed. Hobbling to the kitchen he was surprised to find Megan, David, and Colby at the table.

"Morning Don. Feeling better?"

"Uhhh, some, what are you doing here?"

"Merrick told us to tell you that you had three weeks off without pay."

"Why without pay, I got shot, that's not my fault, and he never saw the hair."

"Well the getting shot was the three weeks, the lack of pay was for the report."

"What report!" they smirked and tossed him the morning newspaper. It was on the front page, the photograph took up almost half the page. There it was, him and his unbearably bright, hot pink hair, which glowed in the picture, bald spots and all, walking into the office. He nearly dropped dead with shame at the article title.

NOOOOOOOOOO! I'm going to kill him!"

The F.B.I Pink Panther: The Next Clouseau?

By the end of the article he just wanted to die. He hadn't thought anything of it when the reporters went wild with their cameras when he walked into the building, he was already in misery by then and had figured that they were bloodhounds and would photographs anything. If only he'd known. He was about to shout yet another death threat at his brother who was watching the morning news on the couch when his brother cut him off.

"HEY DONNIE, YOU'RE ON TV!" the team and his father ran to the living room to watch the report with yesterday's footage.

Don cried.

**A/N: What did you think? Be nice, oneshots aren't easy for me! Bats puppy dog eyes.**


End file.
